


we were meant to be somebody

by notquitepunkrock



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alive Georgie Denbrough, Alternate Universe, Bands, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, its a fucking lemonade mouth au yall its not that deep, probably angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquitepunkrock/pseuds/notquitepunkrock
Summary: Seven losers meet in detention.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> why am i doing this I dont even know... this is stan's fault im sorry yall
> 
> thank you wishie for being my beta <3
> 
> Edit: If you're ever curious, [this is my playlist for this fic. ](https://open.spotify.com/user/eclecticprincess/playlist/3GZP3xxlUIdEBnjUZb22JD?si=Tn46gHG3RCKzZw6nR-pbRg) It has all the songs I listen to/imagine the band singing at some point or another while writing the fic!

**_Eddie_ **

Eddie dashed down the hallway, backpack thumping solidly against his back. He burst through the door of his first period, heaving a sigh of relief as he slipped through the door just as the bell rang. He slumped into his seat, folding his arms across the table and resting his head on them as he fought to catch his breath.

“Mr. Kaspbrak, would you like to present your project to the class first, since you so clearly feel confident enough to fall asleep instead of paying attention?” the teacher called, startling Eddie so badly that he jumped. 

Patrick Hockstetter snorted loudly from the back of the room as Eddie stood up and he felt his face flush. He was fine, he could get through this, he had spent hours memorizing his report. He could do this. 

When he reached the front of the room, Eddie flipped open the folder containing his speech, and his heart leapt to his throat.  _ “Fuck,” _ he hissed, staring at the pages of prescriptions carefully organized in alphabetical order. He’d grabbed his medical file off the table instead of his project. He felt his heart rate picking up, his hands beginning to sweat at the realization that he was couldn’t present today.

His teacher frowned. “Mr. Kaspbrak, that kind of language won’t be tolerated in my classroom,” he said sternly. Eddie swallowed, trying to force away his rising panic. He could feel the eyes of every one of his classmates on him, and Hockstetter was starting to laugh cruelly.

“Jesus fuck, I can’t do this,” he announced, dropping the folder to the floor and running for the door. 

Ten minutes later he was curled up on a cot in the nurse’s office with a pink detention slip held in his fist.

 

**_Bev_ **

Bev crossed her arms defiantly, glaring at the vice principal of her new school with sharp blue eyes. “I didn’t see anything in the dress code about logos,” she huffed. Vice Principal Gray glared right back, setting his jaw.

“There is a line, Miss Marsh, and that shirt crosses it,” he said. “You are encouraging my students to disrespect authority and-”

“And what?” she snapped back, ignoring her aunt, who had her face buried in her hands but seemed to be resisting the urge to laugh. “It’s just a shirt that says ‘question authority,’ and its fully within my rights to wear it.”

Her aunt sighed from the seat beside her, tugging off her blazer. “Beverly, it’s not worth fighting about today,” she sighed. “Just… cover up for the day, alright?” 

“Fine,” she mumbled, taking the blazer and pulling it on over her shirt. The principal watched her with a glare until the last button was fastened over her chest, hiding the words from view. “Are you happy now?” 

“Very,” he said coolly. “Let this be a warning, Miss Marsh. I don’t know how things were done at your old school, but here at Derry High, we don’t tolerate troublemakers.”

Bev raised her eyebrows, watching the security screens over his shoulder. A pair of boys could be seen hurrying down the hallway and bickering with each other. “Oh really?” she asked, nodding towards the screen. Gray turned around and let out a sound that was suspiciously similar to a growl. 

“Tozier,” he grumbled. He turned back to Bev, but seemed to be looking past her. “Go to class, Ms. Marsh, and get a detention slip on your way out. Maybe a little bit of punishment will get you into line.”

 

**_Stan, Richie_ **

“Fuck you, Richie,” Stan spat, crossing his arms over his chest as they left the office. “I didn’t even want to skip class.”

Richie shrugged, stuffing his detention slip deep into the pocket of his worn out jeans. “You’ll live, Stan the Man,” he replied. “Besides, you need to lighten up a little.” He reached a hand out, moving to ruffle Stan’s blond curls, but the younger boy moved away, shooting a glare at his best friend.

“I literally hate you,” he snapped. “There’s so many other things I could be doing after school, and instead I’ve got  _ detention _ . Because of  _ you. _ ” Still, he was fighting to keep a smile off of his lips, even as he shot a hard glare the taller boy’s way. 

Richie laughed. “You don’t hate me,” he replied confidently. “I’m your best friend. Anyway, you have nothing better to do. We were just going to go back to your place and play some dumb video game until our fingers went numb after you tried to force me to do homework, anyway.”

Stan sighed, shaking his head, but he smiled fondly at his friend. “I hate that you’re right,” he conceded. “At least we’ll both be there so I can keep an eye on you.”

Richie cackled, leaping forward and twisting around until he was walking backwards in front of Stan. “There’s the Stanathan I know and love,” he crowed. “Always looking on the brightside.”

“Shut up,” Stan said, and he pulled open the door to their first period, shoving Richie inside without another word.

 

**_Mike_ **

Mike tucked his limbs close to his body, trying not to hit the mops leaning against the wall beside him. He pulled his book from his bag and opened it up, holding it close to his face as he read, mumbling the words aloud as he went.

This was nice. This was good, this was much better than spending second period getting spitballs hurled at the back of his head by Henry Bowers. 

He yawned, stretching his cramped leg out, and kicked over the mops. Mike hissed out a curse word as the door opened, and Vice Principal Gray was standing on the other side, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Hanlon,” he said, tapping his foot. Mike sheepishly raised his hand and waved, then took the pink detention slip that was held out to him. “Detention for a week. Don’t be late.”

The door closed again, plunging Mike back into the darkness, and leaving him holding a detention ticket tightly in one hand.

 

**_Bill_ **

Bill’s stared at the soccer ball in his hands. He didn’t want to be here. He had so many better things he could be doing with his lunch hour than trying out for the soccer team. He could be writing right now, but instead he was listening to Belch Huggins and Henry Bowers as the jostled each other around and trying to pretend like he knew what the hell the words coming out of the coach’s mouth meant.

He wouldn’t even have been here at all, but his parents were being insufferable about how much they missed Georgie’s soccer games, and pressing him to play the sport that he used to practice with his little brother in the front yard.

Bill missed playing with Georgie too. He’d give anything to be falling on his ass after a misplaced footstep, watching his brother zoom past him and kick the ball into their makeshift goal. But he couldn’t play anymore. That had been taken from him when he’d gone missing, and came back broken and bloodied a few months later.

So why was Bill the one who was making up for it?

A ball hit Bill hard in the middle of his back and he stumbled, nearly falling onto his face. He whipped around to see Bowers and Belch laughing at him and felt his face turning brilliantly red. Without stopping to think about the consequences, he lifted his arm and whipped the ball towards the pair of bullies, watching with horror as it sailed through the air and hit the coach in the back of the head.

“F-Fuck,” he mumbled, as the coach stormed over to him, already beginning to write out a detention slip.

 

**_Ben_ **

Ben slipped a thick thesaurus into his bag, holding his breath as it slid between his notebooks. There was a sticker on the front claiming it wasn’t to be removed from the library, but he  _ needed _ it, desperate to find better words to write better poems. He’d bring it back tomorrow, after he’d combed through it for a few hours that night. It was just for one day.

Someone cleared their throat from the end of the aisle and Ben jumped, looking up and locking eyes with the librarian. He swallowed hard as she strode over, reaching into the bag and pulling out the thesaurus with pursed lips.

“That will be a detention, Mr. Hanscom,” she said. “I have to say I’m disappointed in you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ben replied, hanging his head. “I’m sorry.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev was the last person to make to detention, settling into an empty spot near the front of the room and crossing her arms in annoyance. It wasn’t fair that she had to be there, in some dismal little classroom in the basement, just because she’d worn a shirt the principal didn’t like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jfc this is a mess have but hey its detention!

**_Stan_ **

Detention was held in the music room, a sad, closet-sized basement room tucked out of the way of the rest of the world. Stan vaguely remembered when there used to be a real classroom, somewhere on the performing arts wing that got knocked down when the school decided to put in the new gym, back when he was still in middle school. That was long gone. The classes that were pushed aside had been shoved down into the depths of the earth, where they could be forgotten and underfunded, just the way Vice Principal Gray would want. 

He remembered seeing the original room once, on a tour of the campus in eighth grade. There had been plenty of room, and neat rows of lockers lining the walls for students to store their things in. What was left was a cluster of instruments and file cabinets full of sheet music and some desks, spilling into chaos through the small room.

The sight made Stan’s palms itch.

Richie was already there, sitting on top of some tiny kid’s desk that Stan vaguely remembered having classes with in middle school, leering over the boy in a way that told Stan he was definitely flirting. The kid didn’t seem particularly amused, and Stan felt bad enough for him that he felt like he had to save him. 

He weaved between the desks until he reached the two boys, grabbing the back of Richie’s collar and pulling him with him to a pair of seats in the back. “Leave the kid alone, Rich,” he said, nodding towards the boy who was digging through a fanny pack.

“Aw but Stan,” Richie whined, leaning on his best friend. “Kaspbrak’s fun to mess with.” Stan rolled his eyes and hid a smile. 

“You’re a mess,” he said fondly. Richie shrugged like ‘well, what can you do,’ and launched into a rant about a comic book he’d just bought. 

 

**_Bev_ **

Bev was the last person to make to detention, settling into an empty spot near the front of the room and crossing her arms in annoyance. It wasn’t fair that she had to be there, in some dismal little classroom in the basement, just because she’d worn a shirt the principal didn’t like. 

What kind of school even had classrooms in the basement? Bev was pretty sure that had to be against some kind of policy. She’d passed a bunch of classes like this, many of them filled to the bursting with students crammed into the small space. Bev was pretty sure that had to be against some kind of policy. 

A pipe was leaking near the teacher’s desk. Bev winced. That couldn’t be good for the instruments that were shoved into the corners.

There were still a few minutes before the teacher was due to arrive and actually start detention, so Bev took the time to glance around at her companions. In the back corner, she saw the two boys who’d tried to sneak out, looking as different as day and night. The one with ripped jeans and huge glasses perched on his nose was gesturing wildly, while his neatly dressed friend was watching him with interest.

A few rows ahead of them was a tiny boy who was staring around nervously with wide dark eyes, playing with the hem of his pastel blue cardigan nervously. There was a chubby boy with his nose already buried in a book and a similarly preoccupied dark skinned boy that Bev was pretty sure she’d seen in a picture of the football team while she was in the office. And finally, sitting a few seats behind Bev was a lanky boy with floppy brown bangs, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The teacher hurried into the room then, a short, dark-eyed woman in a Derry High Marching Band t-shirt that was at least four years old. “Alright, troublemakers, I’m Mrs. Hartford” she said, but it wasn’t so much mean as motherly. The boy with glasses shut up quickly, leaving the room mostly in silence. “Detention time. There will be no talking, no phones, and no leaving the room until the hour’s up. Violate a rule, and I add a detention. Are we clear?” 

There was a murmur of agreement and she sat down, glancing at bucket under the leaking pipe irritably. Bev sighed, leaning back in her seat and closing her blue eyes. At least this was better than unpacking her life. She was starting to see cardboard boxes in her dreams.

After several long minutes, there was the sound of a toilet flushing from somewhere above them. Mrs. Hartford flinched, watching a stream of water fall from the pipe into the bucket. This happened a few more times before she stood up angrily, pushing the chair back so hard it slammed into the wall. Bev flinched.

“That is  _ it _ ,” Mrs. Hartford announced, storming over to the door. “I’ve asked a million times for that damn pipe to be fixed and it’s still  _ broken _ . I’m going to go give that Vice Principal Gray a piece of my mind. You kids do whatever - just don’t leave the room.”

With that she was gone, leaving the seven teenagers staring after her. 

There was a groan, and two thunks as the dark-haired boy from the back put his feet up onto the desk in front of him. “This is stupid,” he announced. “Wanna ditch and go to the quarry, Stan, my man?” 

The curly haired boy beside him rolled his eyes and reached over to shove his feet off of the desk, getting up to clear away the dirt left behind by his heavy boots. “We’re not supposed to leave, Richie. That was literally her only rule.”

“Aw, where’s your sense of adventure?” the boy who was named Richie asked. He stood up, moving lean across the desk of the small nervous boy. Everyone was watching him now, something he seemed to notice and enjoy. Bev tensed, preparing herself to get up and intervene if he started harassing the kid. “What about you, Cupcake, you wanna go swimming?” 

Richie gave a lazy wink, and the kid shifted uncomfortably, his neck turning bright red. “Shut up, asshole,” he mumbled. “Sit down.” 

“Alright,” Richie grinned, plopping down right on top of the boy’s desk, his legs hanging sideways into the aisle. “Happy now, Eds?” 

“Don’t call me that, my name is  _ Eddie _ ,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. Bev hid her grin at the fury in his tone, which didn’t seem to match up with his small stature. “I meant sit in a chair, you dumbass.” 

Bev arched an eyebrow, and sat forward, ready to step in. Eddie seemed really annoyed now, and Richie was just smirking while his friend was busy shuffling papers around in the filing cabinet full of sheet music and decidedly ignoring them. She had a feeling someone need to stop this before it escalated. 

But then the skinny boy from the back piped up. “L-Leave Eddie a-alone, Richie,” he called. Richie pouted but slid off the desk and started wandering the room. Bev watched him with mild interest, because he seemed like the type of person to get into trouble. He picked up a guitar that was stashed behind an old marimba and sat on the floor, fiddling with it until it was tuned and started playing.

Behind her, Bev heard the lanky boy tapping on his desk along with Richie’s playing, and Eddie started humming. She bit her lip to keep from humming as well, getting up to search through the instruments until she found a bass guitar. She plucked at its strings idly, raising her eyebrows at how painfully out of tune it was. That fucking sucked. She had to fix this.

“Hey, does anyone play piano?” she asked, glancing up towards the room. Stan looked up, setting down the papers he was holding carefully.

“I do,” he said. “What do you need?” 

“Can you help me tune this thing?” Bev asked a little desperately. She’d taught herself bass when she was younger, back when she was still living with her dad and needed a way to get out her anger. She’d pick out riff after riff until her fingers bled on a bass that she’d bought at the pawn shop and kept stored under her bed, never even bothering to buy an amp for fear of her father hearing. Seeing a bass so neglected was almost painful. “I just need you to play the notes for me.” 

Stan nodded and shuffled some music that was covering the bench into a neat pile and sat down, nodding for her to start. Bev sighed at the familiar vibrations beneath her fingers, letting the tuning come naturally to her until it was perfect. She shot Stan a thumbs up and wandered away, the strap of the bass slung over her shoulder as she played a few riffs and searched for an amp.

Sure, she’d played without one before, but since moving in with her aunt, she’d had the luxury of actually hearing her notes reverberating through her bedroom. It was a lot nicer than without the amp.

Bev vaguely registered Bill taking a seat behind a drumset that was shoved in the corner by the piano and Stan starting to play a melody that went well with whatever Richie was strumming away from his spot on the floor. She finally found an amp that was plugged in by the wall and plugged it into the bass she’d claimed as her own. 

Without noticing, she began playing along with the others, the song morphing into something she vaguely remembered hearing on the radio and liking. After a few minutes, Eddie’s humming got louder, melding with the football player until they were both loudly singing together with voices that meshed surprisingly perfectly.

 

_ I don't like walking around this old and empty house _

_ So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear _

_ The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake _

_ It's the house telling you to close your eyes _

 

Just as the song ended, the door opened, and Mrs. Hartford was standing on the other side, staring at them with wide eyes. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is becoming Streddie and I blame the characters entirely because I did not plan for this.
> 
> this chapter is not betaed because I'm a mess and couldn't wait that long.

**_Mike_ **

Mike froze at the sight of Mrs. Hartford, clamping his mouth shut and hurriedly turning back to the book sitting open on his desk. Everyone hurried back to their seats as well, though Richie Tozier looked especially reluctant to go back to following the rules.

Everyone, that is, except for the new girl. She simply set her jaw and glared at Mrs. Hartford defiantly. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the neck of the bass that Mike wouldn’t be surprised if there were marks left behind when she finally let go.

“Mrs. Hartford, it wasn’t my idea,” Eddie Kaspbrak started, but he was silenced by a wave of the woman’s hand. The new girl started to say something heated as well, but she was cut off just as quickly. 

The woman’s dark eyes glittered with something Mike couldn’t quite describe as they flicked from one teenager to the next. It made him grip his book just a little tighter.

“You,” she said suddenly, stopping in front of Mike and leaning on his desk. Mike started, leaning back to look up at the teacher. She whipped her head over to look at Eddie and pointed at him, causing him to turn bright red.  “And you! Your voices! They’re incredible! They way they go together? Amazing.” She bounced up in a way that he was pretty sure shouldn’t have been possible at her age, whirling to face the new girl as she gently set down the bass.

“Your band!” she shrieked so loudly that Ben Hanscom actually jumped. Mike was startled. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting at all. “It’s a gift!”

The new girl blinked at her, tucking her short curls behind her ear. “We’re not a band,” she tried to explain. 

Stan Uris nodded. “We don’t even know each other,” he said quickly. Mike felt a flash of hurt that Stan could have so easily forgotten dozens of English projects in freshman year, but he supposed they had never really been friends. He supposed he was forgettable.

“Well, you should,” Mrs. Hartford said firmly. “People need to hear you- they need to hear you.” She gestured to the door, and, presumably, the clubs and classrooms shoved in the basement hallway. 

Mike shifted uncomfortably. As a football player, he felt mildly responsible for the injustices towards the arts programs. If it wasn’t for his team, they would still have classrooms and large budgets.

Suddenly, the woman clapped her hands together. Ben jumped again, then slinked down in his seat. “Rising Star!” she exclaimed. “You should do Rising Star!” 

The new girl blinked and tugged on a lock of red hair behind her ear. “Rising what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Rising Star,” Mike said, clearing his throat when t cracked awkwardly on the words. “It’s a talent competition.”

“Yeah!” Richie jumped in as he let his heavy boots hit the floor. “Winner makes hella bucks and gets a record deal. It’s like, a huge deal.” He put on an exaggerated valley girl accent there that made Mike wince and the new girl smirk. 

Eddie scoffed and rolled his dark eyes. “The Hot Hunks are entering Rising Star,” he said. “There’s no way anyone else will win.”

“W-which is d-dumb because th-th-they s-suh-suck,” Bill added. “B-but you know th-they’re going to w-win, because everyone l-luh-loves them.”

The new girl shrugged. “Well if we’re not going to win against these hunk guys then what’s the point?” she asked, sliding into her seat. “Sorry Hartford, but I’m out.” 

“I’m out too,” Mike added. He ducked his head as everyone turned to look at him, shifting awkwardly. “Even if I wanted to do it, I have football practice. That takes up all of my time, and then I have to go work on the farm.”

“I c-can’t,” Bill said. “I’ve g-gotta watch G-Georgie every day a-af-after school.”

Stan shrugged. “Volunteering,” he said by way of explanation, then leaned over to shove Richie’s feet back to the floor again. 

“I don’t really play any instruments or anything,” Ben said awkwardly. “I write poems sometimes, but that’s not the same thing as, like, writing a song. So I’m, um, out.”

“What about you, Eddie?” Mrs. Hartford asked, placing her hands on Eddie’s desk. The short boy cowered a bit under her heavy gaze. He stammered awkwardly for a moment and then shook his head and hid his face beneath his dark curls.

“I don’t sing,” he mumbled. 

Mrs. Hartford scoffed. “Uh, we just heard you sing,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t real, like on a stage. I can’t do that,” he said. “Last time I sang in front of people was in the second grade, and five words into Baa Baa Black Sheep I threw up down Ed Cocoran’s back.” 

Richie snorted. “I remember that! It was hilarious.”

Eddie’s cheeks turned pink, and Mike had to cover his face to keep from laughing at the venomous glare he shot the tall boy. “No, it was humiliating,” he mumbled. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” He looked truly guilty as the teacher’s shoulders slumped and she stepped back with a long sigh.

“Well I guess that counts me out,” Richie said brightly. “Can’t really have one man in a band - unless you were considering a solo career. Which I would be happy to consider!” 

Stan elbowed him in the ribs. “Beep, beep Richie,” he said firmly. His friend shut his mouth tightly and shrugged with a small grin. “Sorry Mrs. Hartford, we just can’t.”

There was an awkward silence following that lasted long the remaining thirty minutes of detention and followed them out of the basement. Mike climbed into his truck and bit his lip, locking eyes with himself in the mirror. Something had changed down there. He just didn’t know what.

 

**_Bev_ **

Bev climbed into her aunt’s car, crossing her arms and glaring at doors to the school. Her aunt smiled, leaning over to brush a wayward curl off of her forehead. “How was detention?” she asked cheerily, as if Bev didn’t look like she was about to murder everyone that attended Derry High in one fell swoop.

But somehow, her face lit up, and she started describing the magic of the moment that everything came together. “It was amazing, Aunt Beck,” she said finally, sitting back in her seat. “I’ve never felt anything so perfect.”

“Sounds like something you should persue,” her aunt said casually. Bev’s eyes landed on a bumper sticker for the Hot Hunks on the car in front of them at the light. 

“I think I’m going to start a revolution,” she said seriously as they turned into their new neighborhood.

 

**_Eddie_ **

“Eddie-kins, you’re home so late!” Sonia Kaspbrak called as her son walked through the front door. Eddie winced, walking into the living room to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Sorry, Mommy,” he said. “I was working on a project in the library.” 

Sonia frowned, inspecting Eddie’s face for any sign of lying. Eddie shifted uncomfortably, praying she wouldn’t notice the way he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. After a few seconds she nodded in satisfaction, clearly not finding whatever sign she was looking for. “Tell me next time, sweetheart, you know Mommy worries,” she said seriously.

Eddie swallowed down the guilt. “Yes ma’am,” he managed.

“Now, go do your homework and I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready,” she said, heaving herself out of her chair. Eddie nodded and scrambled up the stairs to his room, closing the door tightly behind himself and dropping onto the bed with a long sigh. She didn’t have to know a thing.

 

**_Bill_ **

Bill’s little brother climbed into the car, bouncing excitedly after a long day of school in a way that proved he hadn’t yet been broken down by the trials of middle school. Bill smiled as Georgie launched into a story about his science teacher and the class pet, a fat toad named Buddha, and how she’d almost escaped her tank.

“It was awesome,” he finished excitedly. Bill hummed interestedly, but Georgie seemed to sense something was off. “Billy, what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing’s wrong, Georgie, I’m just th-thinking,” he replied. “I had a long day. Almost thought I’d b-be late to p-pick you uh-up. I was worried you’d be s-sitting out th-th-there waiting for me for ages, that’s a-all.”

Georgie frowned, tilting his head as he studied his older brother’s face. “Why were you almost late?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “The high school gets out a whole two hours before Derry Middle School, and that’s plenty of time to make it across town.”

Not for the first time, Bill cursed his little brother’s ability to see through him. “I g-got detention,” he admitted. “But you c-can’t tell Muh-Mom and D-Dad, th-they’ll freak.”

“You got detention? What for?” Georgie asked.

Bill laughed awkwardly. “I m-may have hit th-the soccer coach with a b-buh-ball? In my defense I was aiming for B-Bowers,” he explained, grinning when his brother burst into laughter and buried his face in his hands for several long moments until he calmed down.

“I guess you didn’t get on the team, huh? Are we telling them or not?” he asked finally, cheeks still bright pink from laughing so hard.

“I h-haven’t decided yet,” Bill admitted. “H-hey, you w-wanna hear about detention?” 

Georgie nodded excitedly, and Bill launched into the story.

 

**_Stan_ **

Stan frowned at Richie. “You’re sure you don’t wanna come over? You know my parents won’t mind. They love you,” he said, staring just past his friend and at the darkened windows of the house.

Richie managed a smile that Stan could tell was faked. “I’ll be fine, Stanny Boy,” he said, shaking his head. His face fell then, glancing back at the house as well. “Someone has to make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit.” 

“Okay,” Stan said, readjusting his grip on the handlebars of his bike. “See you in the morning, Trashmouth.”

Richie grinned and winked, already starting to wheel his bike into the front yard. “Not if I see you first,” he called. Stan shook his head and took off again, reflecting idly on detention while he rode home.

That was the first time he’d seen Richie smile so widely in ages. He almost wished there was some way this band thing could work out, just to keep his best friend smiling like that. 

Stan shook the thought from his head as he turned into his driveway. There was no use reflecting on what ifs, not when there was so much else to worry about. He made his way to the garage door, flipping the lock five times before he went inside. 

It was a shame that the what ifs were so nice to think about.

 

**_Richie_ **

The minute he opened the door, Richie was met with the familiar smell of vomit and alcohol that had been desperately cover with lemon scented air freshener. He rolled his eyes and kicked off his boots by the front door, wandering into the living room to find his mother.

Maggie Tozier was right where he’d left her that morning, staring blankly at the television with glassy eyes. The only sign she’d moved at all was the pile of beer bottles that had grown in the few hours he’d been gone.

“Hiya, Ma, school was great thanks for asking,” Richie said in an overly cheery voice. He gathered the bottles into a plastic bag by the doorway. “Let’s clean up around here, yeah?” 

She didn’t make any move to indicate she’d heard him. Richie sighed. He might as well be invisible. “Drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t gonna make Dad come back,” he mumbled, dropping the final bottle into the bag. He turned back to his mother and smiled brightly. “Well, I’ve got homework to do, and then I’m needed at Stanny boy’s house. I’ll see you later, Ma.” 

He disappeared into his room at that, wishing not for the first time that he hadn’t bothered to come home at all.

 

**_Ben_ **

The house was empty when Ben got home.

That, in itself, wasn’t unusual. His aunt and mother both had work, and his cousins had active social lives, the likes of which Ben could only dream of. 

But after witnessing the perfect harmony of the kids in detention playing together, it seemed emptier than usual. He tossed his backpack onto the bed, wincing as it bounced off and hit the floor with a loud thump, and dropped into his desk chair. 

His thoughts drifted to the new girl, a pretty redhead named Beverly. She was in his third period English class, and when she’d started to play the bass in detention, he swore he’d died and went to heaven. She was just that beautiful. 

He dug through his desk drawer until he found an old postcard that he’d gotten at the Grand Canyon, back when they still took family trips. Back before his dad died and everything went to shit. With his nicest pen, he carefully wrote a poem, thoughts of her fiery red hair running through his mind.

With a smile, he gently placed the postcard in between the pages of his poetry journal. He’d give it to her, somehow, someday. He just had to get the perfect opportunity.

_ January embers, _

_ My heart burns there too. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again to Wishie for betaing this chapter again, because boy did I need help <3 
> 
> this chapter is kind of a mess, but the next one will be fun and fluffy so i'm hyped for that.

**_Richie_ **

Richie’s phone buzzed as he walked into third period. His eyes landed on Eddie, who was staring at his own phone with a wrinkled nose. He plopped down beside the short boy as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, flipping it open and glancing at the screen.

_ Fluke or Destiny? We need to talk - Bev _

When Richie looked over to Eddie’s phone, the same message was lighting up his screen. He pushed his own phone over where the smaller boy could see it, raising his eyebrows as he leaned over Eddie’s shoulder. “Think it’s about the band?” 

Eddie glared, gathering his things and moving away from Richie to a desk on the other side of the room. Richie smirked. “Aw, c’mon, Eds, you know you love me,” he called, making the rest of their classmates to giggle wildly. 

[The bell to start class echoed through the room, and Mr. Burda cleared his throat to begin lecturing. Richie didn’t even bother to pull out his notebook, just using the teacher’s droning, monotonous voice as the background noise for his thoughts. 

The previous night, after spending a few hours kicking around in his room, trying to ignore the sound of his mother throwing up into the toilet, Richie crept into the living room to check on her. She was passed out on the couch, propped up on the stained cushions and drooling a little. He’d sighed and tugged a blanket over her before slipping out of the house and running to Stan’s. Stan’s was safe. 

The pair of them had spent the night idly muttering about the idea of a band before they drifted off to sleep, curled around each other in his small bed with their cold feet touching, just like they always did. Stan only ever let Richie onto his bed when they were asleep. Otherwise he’d just mess it up

Richie knew that Stan was secretly hoping they’d end up trying this band thing out. He needed something to get his mind off of the stress of school and volunteer work, something that wasn’t just following Richie into whatever trouble he chose to get them into that day and complaining about it the whole time. His head was going to explode otherwise. 

He let out a loud sigh and leaned back into his chair, flashing Eddie a smirk when the boy glanced in his direction. 

He slid his phone out of his pocket again. 

_ What time? - r _

 

**_Bev_ **

Bev tapped her fingers on the table in front of her, watching the door of the pizzaria anxiously. They had to show up. All of them had promised they’d show up. 

Some of the tension left her shoulders when the bell above the door jingled, and Mike Hanlon walked in with his head shoulders hunched and his head down.

“Mike!” she called, waving him down. He jumped a little and hurried across the small restaurant, slipping into a seat across from her. He seemed to be curling into himself nervously, pulling at the sleeves of his letterman jacket.

“Hi Beverly,” he said, glancing around with wide eyes. “Am I the first one here?”

“Yep, but there’s Ben, now,” she grinned, waving to the chubby boy as he walked in. Ben ducked his head and hurried over as well, sitting beside Bev and smiling from under his bangs. The three of them sat in an awkward silence that grew worse as 

Eddie came in next, wrapped in a over-large pale pink sweatshirt and glaring from under his curls. He dropped down beside Ben and smiled awkwardly at the others, then pulled out his phone.

After Eddie came Richie and Stan, walking side by side and laughing about something as they came through the door. As per usual, they looked like opposites - Richie in his dark jeans and leather jacket over a Hawaiian shirt and Stan in a neatly pressed button down and khaki pants. Richie took the seat beside Bev and grinned at Eddie across the table, but even he held his tongue.

Bill was the last to come in, ushering forwards a young boy with dirty blonde hair and wrapped in a windbreaker that was at least three sizes too large. The boy sat at a table nearby and pulled a binder out of his bag as Bill slid into the last seat at their table, smiling uncomfortably at the others. “S-Sorry I’m l-late,” he said. “I h-had to pick up G-Georgie fr-fruh-from school.”

They ordered a large cheese pizza to split and got their drinks before Bev began talking. She tried her best to appear calm and collected, but on the inside, she was shaking. What if they thought this was ridiculous? She took a deep breath before speaking, twisting the rings covering her fingers in an attempt to keep her nerves at bay.

“We should start a band,” she said seriously. Eddie’s head popped up, and Stan arched an eyebrow, but no one spoke. “Like, actually. One that performs and practices and everything.”

“We talked about this, Bev,” Mike said. “It’ll never work.”

Bev rolled her brown eyes, reaching up to pull at the curl behind her ear. The familiar motion calmed her even more and she grabbed a slice of the pizza from the center of the table. She flashed Mike a grin and raised her eyebrows. “Sure it will. I signed us up for Rising Star this morning.”

She glanced around the table. Eddie nearly choked on his pizza, eyes widening at the news. “We don’t have nearly enough experience,” he stammered. “No. God no. No way.”

Bev elected to ignore his protests, turning back towards the others. She looked to Richie and locked eyes with him, smirking at the interested look on his face. “Which is why I signed us up to play the Halloween Dance, as well.”

“Alright New Girl!” Richie cheered. “Aren’t the Hot Hunks playing that? How’d you swing that one, Marshie?” 

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, nudging his upper arm with her elbow. Bev liked Richie - he was a bit obnoxious, but she could tell he was using his jokes to cover something up. Plus, he was kind of hilarious. “You would be amazed what a principal will agree to if he thinks his new ‘problem child’ is channeling their energy into something productive,” she shrugged. “All I had to do is ask.”

“S-small pruh-problem - messing around in d-detention doesn’t muh-make us a-a-a b-buh-band,” Bill pointed out, gesturing with his slice of pizza. His little brother glanced up with interest, watching as him carefully with a small smile on his face.

“So we practice,” Bev said. “Come on guys, it’ll be awesome.” She stared pleadingly around the table, almost giggling as each of the boys carefully avoided her eyes.

Stan huffed, pursing his lips. “Alright, say we do it,” he said carefully. “What would we even play? We don’t know any music.”

“Benny Boy could write our songs,” Richie said. From the look on Ben’s face, that was not what he’d been expecting to hear. Bev felt bad for him - he was pretty clearly not used to everyone looking at him. 

Ben slunk down in his chair, turning a little red. “I don’t write music,” he mumbled. “Well, I mean, I’ve tried writing songs before, but I don’t know how to write the music that goes with them. I’m not really good with composing. And anyway, we can’t play the dance, the Hunks have had it booked for months.”

“And we are opening for them,” Bev announced, grinning at their shocked looks once again.

“Hell yes!” Richie crowed, holding up his hand for a high five. Stan smiled a little as Bev complied, and she felt a swell of hope filling her chest for just a moment. Maybe this would actually work.

However, Ben, Mike, Eddie, and Bill still looked completely unconvinced. Bev frowned, twisting the ring around her thumb, a thick gold band that she’d gotten when her uncle died when she was small. “I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to be forgotten, not like everyone else in small towns like this always seem to be,” she admitted, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. “I want to be heard. I want to make a difference to someone. Richie and I are in - who’s with us?”

There was a long-suffering sigh from Bev’s right, and Stan leaned forward to look at her face. “I’m in, but only because otherwise Richie will bug me about it forever, and I don’t want to hear it,” he said. 

Mike shifted in his seat before some of the anxiety seemed to leave him. “I’ll give it a shot,” he said. “But only if everyone else agrees. I have a lot on my plate right now but… it seems fun.”

“If you really think my writing’s good enough,” Ben started, eyes locked on the table. 

“Dude, totally,” Richie said. “That poem you read in English last year was killer, wasn’t it, Hanlon?” Mike looked startled to have been addressed by the lanky boy, but he nodded hurriedly, shooting Ben an encouraging smile. 

“Alright,” Ben nodded, eyes flicking up from the table to Bev. She offered him a small grin and he smiled back adorably. “I’m in.”

There was a silence around the table, as everyone turned towards Eddie. The tiny boy seemed to be purposely avoiding their eyes, instead staring down at his lemonade as he sucked on the straw. “Eds,” Richie sang, but the boy didn’t even bother protesting at the nickname. “Come on, Spaghetti Man, it’ll be fun.” If anything, his words seemed to frighten Eddie more, as his grip on the plastic cup became so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Come on, Eddie, just give it a try,” Stan encouraged. “If you don’t like it, you can walk out at any time, no questions asked.” His gentle voice got the boy to look up and he hesitated before nodding quickly.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do it,” he grumbled, cheeks turning bright red as Richie cheered.

Bev’s head swiveled over to Bill who bit on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “It’s all down to you, Bill Denbrough,” she said seriously. 

Bill held up a finger and dug through his pocket until he produced a quarter. “H-Heads we d-duh-do it, t-tails we don’t,” he said. Everyone nodded.

The quarter seemed to flip in slow motion, spiralling into the air above their heads, and then falling to the table with a small click. Bev leaned forward, peering down at it as she chewed on her bottom lip. Even Georgie got up from his table behind theirs to peer over his brother’s shoulder at the results.

It was heads.

They were officially a band.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just noticed this has over 100 kudos and like, wow. Thank you so much! This chapter is a bit of a mess, but tbh I'm kind of fond of it lol. Mike and Ben have the spotlight this time, my pure boys.

**_Ben_ **

Ben found himself back in the music room the day after the gathering at the pizza parlor. He was sitting at a desk with his poetry notebook out, jotting down ideas he’d had for a song the night before in a fit of inspiration. The others were gathered off to the side with their instruments. Ben was pretty sure they were arguing about what to play, because he hadn’t heard them even start practicing yet.

He wasn’t sure - he was staying out of it.

There was a sigh as Bill dropped into the desk beside Ben’s. “H-How’s it g-g-guh-going o-over here?” he asked, dropping his drumsticks onto the desk. “Write anything g-good?”

Ben shrugged, moving to cover his notebook. Bill, however, didn’t seem to be having it, and reached across him to grab the book. He skimmed the page with the song jotted down, tilting his head. “Th-this is good,” he said. “D-Do you n-need any help with i-it?”

“Well, I don’t know much about writing songs,” Ben admitted. “I just know how to write poems. I’ve tried songs before, but I don’t know enough about music for them. Do you have any ideas at all?”

Bill hummed thoughtfully. “The b-brih-bridge is good, but it’s missing something, like, what about if we did this…” He bent over the notebook and jotted down a few lines. Ben peered at it and nodded enthusiastically.

“Then it’d be kind of,” he hummed a tune here that Bill seemed to like, snapping his fingers and tapping out a beat on the desk with his discarded sticks.

The others slowly stopped arguing, instead watching the pair of them. Bill glanced up from the notebook. “H-Hey Eddie, come here and s-sing this bit,” he called, tapping the page. Eddie crossed the room knelt next to their table. He listened intently to the tune Ben hummed, and then sang it back to them, his soft, sweet voice filling the small music room.

 

_ Oh, would you be so kind as to fall in love with me? _

_ You see,  _

_ I’m trying, I know you know that I like you _

_ But that’s not enough. _

_ So if you would please fall in love _

 

There was a small gasp, and Bev was soon climbing over the desks to peer down at the book. “Ben, you wrote that?” she asked, grinning brightly at him. 

Ben shifted and chuckled nervously, swallowing down his heart as it made its way to his throat. “Yeah, but it’s nothing special,” he said. His voice cracked on the first word, and he felt his cheeks turning bright red at the attention. Bev shook her head, her eyes glittering. 

“It’s great, Ben,” she said. She looked up at the others, pointing at the book. “Keep writing like that, and we’ll definitely win Rising Star.” 

Richie climbed over a few desks, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder to look at the notebook. Ben was starting to feel self-conscious of the number of eyes on his book, considering he’d never let anyone to look through it before. For some reason, Richie’s gaze worried him the most. Derry’s infamous Trashmouth Tozier could make a joke out of anything, and Ben didn’t know if he could handle him joking about this.

Instead, he frowned a little, then poked Eddie in the shoulder. “Eds, sing it again, I think I’ve got an idea,” he said, swinging his guitar around in front of his body.

“Don’t call me that, asswipe,” Eddie protested, but he began to sing anyway. This time, Richie messed around for a moment, plucking at the strings until he found chords that went with Eddie’s soft voice. Eddie finished the verse for the second time, and the boys looked up at Ben.

Richie raised his eyebrows. “So, what d’ya think, Benny Boy? Are we bringing it to life?” he asked. 

Ben grinned shyly. “Why’d you stop?” he asked. The group shared smiles and hurried to their instruments. They had their first real song. This was really happening. 

 

**_Mike_ **

Mike dropped his bag by the door and wiped his feet off on the mat. “Grandpa?” he called, poking his head into the living room. His grandfather looked up from the television and frowned at him. 

“You’re home late,” he said gruffly. Mike ducked his head, coming fully into the living room and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sorry Grandpa,” Mike muttered. He hadn’t told his family about the band. It was still too new, something fragile that could still fall apart on him. He knew that neither his grandpa or his dad would mind, not as long as he did what he had to do around the farm, but there was still some sort of fear that he couldn’t quite shake that they’d be upset. “I’ll go do my chores now.” 

His grandfather heaved himself out of his chair and crossed the room to pat Mike solidly on the shoulder. “I’ll start on dinner. Your dad should be out in the barn.”

Mike nodded, turning towards the door. He stopped just before opening it. “Hey, Grandpa?” he called. He waited until he heard his grandfather grunt in acknowledgement from the kitchen. “I love you.”

With that he slipped back outside, humming the song they’d worked on at band rehearsal the entire way to the barn.

The walk to the barn didn’t take long, and when he slipped inside, he found his dad working on the tractor. It had stopped running the other day, and they had to get it working again as soon as possible. He looked up as Mike came closer, his tired eyes lighting up at the sight of his son.

“Hey, Dad,” Mike said, heading towards the back of the barn. He picked up the feed bucket and filled it with chicken feed before heading back towards his dad.

“You’re home late,” his dad commented. Mike ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I, um, had a thing with some friends,” he said. His dad’s face lit up.

“Friends?” he asked. “What friends? The team?” 

Mike suddenly felt bad for not telling his dad about the band. It was no secret in their family that he’d had a hard time making friends at school, even on the football team. There were just too many differences between him and his classmates, many of whom had never had to work a day in their lives. It didn’t help that he’d been homeschooled until sophomore year while everyone else had known each other since kindergarten. Breaking into friendships that had been established for more than a decade had proved incredibly difficult.

“I’ll tell you all about it at dinner,” he promised. “I’ve got to go feed the chickens.”

“Looking forward to it, kiddo,” he called as Mike left the barn. Mike waved over his shoulder and closed the door behind him. He couldn’t keep a secret for the life of him, apparently. Here was hoping this band thing didn’t fall apart. He didn’t think he could handle the look on his dad’s face if it did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song is Would You Be So Kind by dodie ! if you've never heard it before, go listen to it right now i love it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reddie Chapter? Reddie Chapter. This doesn't do much for the plot but it was getting too long so I had to cut it off before we got to actual events lol

**_Eddie_ **

News had apparently spread quickly that the Hot Hunks weren’t going to be the only band playing the Halloween Dance. By Friday, Eddie was getting glares from Vic Criss and Belch every time he passed them in the hall, threatening glances that had him cowering further into himself. He was grateful that he didn’t see Bowers or Hockstetter anywhere. One of them was apt to punch his face in for daring to step on their turf.

Mike had a class with Bowers and claimed the older boy didn’t seem to know who, exactly, was in this as-of-yet unnamed band. He still suffered from an endless amount of spitballs to the back of the head, but nothing worse seemed to come of it. Eddie knew it couldn’t last. He made it through Friday by keeping his head down, and holding his breath until he stepped safely through the front door.

When Richie Tozier swung himself through the window of the his bedroom on Friday night, Eddie was already in bed. Granted, he was still up, reading a comic book with a flashlight. But still. 

The sound of the tall boy tumbling to the floor startled Eddie, and he stared up at Richie with wide dark eyes. “What the hell?” he hissed, eyes darting over to the bedroom door. He held his breath, praying his mother hadn’t heard. When there was no sound of movement from the hallway he relaxed and turned to fix his gaze on Richie. 

Said boy seemed unconcerned, picking at the chipped black nail polish on his long fingers. “You know, Spaghetti Man, you shouldn’t leave your window open at night,” he said. “Some creep might try to come in.” He looked up, teeth shining in the moonlight as he gave a wide grin.

“What, like you?” Eddie asked, getting up and moving to the window. He peered outside, frowning. “How did you even get up here?” 

“I have my ways, Eddie baby,” Richie teased. “Now come on, get dressed. We got things to do, places to go, people to see.”

Eddie felt his cheeks turn red, suddenly aware he was wearing only a cropped shirt and pale blue pajama shorts. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” Eddie hissed. He turned away and hurried across the room to his closet, digging around for a sweater and some jeans. There was the sound of someone sitting on his bed, and he glanced back to see Richie perched on the edge, flipping through his comic book.

“Bev wanted to do some band bonding, I volunteered to pick you up. We’re getting Stan the Man next, by the way,” he explained. “Bring some swim trunks, you’re going to need them.”

Eddie half-closed his closet door, switching pjs for a light purple button down and overalls. “I um, don’t have any,” he mumbled as he emerged.

Richie looked up and froze, mouth slightly agape as he took Eddie in. The pale moonlight fell over his cheekbones, highlighting the way his freckles stood out against his skin. After a few moments, he seemed to shake himself back to reality, pulling forward a backpack that Eddie hadn’t noticed him carrying. 

“I had a feeling that’d be the case - your mom is legendarily strict, no way she’d let you do anything normal like swimming - so Bev and I got you a pair.” At this, he tossed a pair of pink and white checkered swim trunks at Eddie who fumbled with them, but managed to catch ahold of them. They were just the right size and looked brand new, he noticed, his cheeks going red in spite of himself.

“You didn’t have to,” he replied, crossing the room. He handed the trunks back to Richie, who carefully shoved them back into his bag and zipped it up.

“Yeah, well,” he said, offering no other explanation. The words hung in the air for a moment, and then he stood up. “You should grab a towel and then we need to get going. I told Bev we’d meet them half an hour from now and it’ll take at least that long to get Stan.”

Eddie nodded, any of his previous reluctance gone with the small gesture. He held up a finger and slid out of the room, tiptoeing down the hallway to the bathroom. In the linen closet, way up high, were a set of beach towels that his mother had bought when they went on their one and only beach vacation, back when his dad was still alive. Except for that one occasion, they had never been touched. Eddie was pretty sure he wasn’t even supposed to know they were there. 

He stood on his toes, reaching as high as he could in an attempt to get the towels but they just evaded his fingertips. He hissed out a curse, falling back to his heels and frowning. An idea hit him at that moment, a stupid, dangerous idea that he would normally never go through with. He could get hurt in ninety different ways, his mom could wake up, and that wasn’t even counting all the trouble he’d be in if she ever found out. (And he didn’t doubt she would, eventually. Sonia Kaspbrak seemed to know everything he did.)

The thing was, though, that Eddie  _ wanted _ to go with Richie on this insane trip in the middle of the night. He was tired of following all of his mother’s rules and expectations, of always being Good Little Eddie Bear, Mommy’s Perfect Little Boy. He wanted to live his own life, do things that were maybe stupid, but at least they were fun. He  _ needed _ to do this.

Eddie took a deep breath and carefully pulled himself up onto the toilet lid. From there, he was able to climb onto the countertop next to it. He took a deep breath, and leaned across the small bathroom towards the open closet, toes curling at the edge of the counter as he reached blindly for the towels and-

And he slipped, hurtling towards the floor. He screwed his eyes shut and waited for the impact, and all the pain, waited for his mother to come barrelling into the bathroom and catch him in the act of sneaking out. But it never happened. Instead, someone wrapped their arms around him, hugging him close to their chest. Richie. Eddie wrapped his own arms around the other boy and let him help carefully lower him to the ground. 

He didn’t let go, even when his bare feet hit the cool tile floor. 

“You know,” Richie said in his ear, voice soft and deep, rumbling through his chest. “When they say that you’re falling for someone, you don’t have to actually fall.”

Eddie flushed, pulling back and shoving Richie away. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I’m too short to reach the beach towels,” he pouted, pointing to the top shelf. Richie glanced up and narrowed his eyes, then shrugged.

“Watch and learn, Spaghetti Man,” he grinned, reaching up to grab a towel with ease. Eddie snatched it out of his hand and held it close to his chest.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled. “Wait here.” He hurried into the bedroom, locating the lavender converse that matched his shirt and tugging them onto his feet. He glanced at his phone for a moment, but decided against taking it.

His mom could track his phone. There was nothing to track if he didn’t have it on him. 

With careful footsteps he returned back to the hallway, motioning for Richie to follow him out of the bathroom. The pair of them crept through the house. They paused at Sonia’s door until she snored loudly and scampered past, carefully walking down the stairs. Eddie instinctively skipped the second to last step, which squeaked loudly enough to wake his mother, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Richie did too. 

They slipped out the front door and Eddie locked it behind him, pocketing the key and hurrying to the side of the house where Richie had left his bike beside Eddie’s.

“Okay, to Stan’s!” Richie said in a tone that felt like shouting after the near-silence of the house. They got onto the bikes and disappeared into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my it tumblr (eddiesnapback) for lots of it related nonsense!  
> Also, some friends and I have an It/Stranger Things ask blog !! It's good and gay and fun. We're a super crack-y version of letterstothelosers lol. Come ask us stuff @ castle-losersclub on tumblr


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the other half of what was originally gonna be chapter six... yeah, lots of filler, I know leave me alone I'm establishing stuff for relAtioNShiPs. Next chapter will have benverly stuff and also we'll get back onto the movie's plot I promise I just needed this. Okay? Okay.

**_Bill_ **

Bill met Mike at the end of the Hanlon farm’s driveway. Mike was sitting on a large rock next to the entrance Bill rode up on Silver, his bike propped up against the rock. He stood up as Bill got close.

“Hey,” he called, picking up a Derry High Athletics duffel bag from the ground. It was old and falling apart, but Mike didn’t seem to care. “Do you know why we can’t just drive? I have no idea what’s going on.” 

Bill grinned. Bev had filled him in on what was going on, just so that he could take Mike to the right place. Bill, for his part, had shoved a couple bottles of sparkling grape juice and a bag of chips into his backpack. He could have snuck something from his parent’s liquor cabinet without them noticing, but he didn’t want Georgie to see. 

“Y-You’ll find out w-what’s going on s-s-soon,” Bill said evasively. “C-Come on, Hanlon. Th-the band awaits.” 

He waited just long enough for Mike to get himself situated on his bike before taking off towards town. Mike chased after him, laughing wildly. Just inside of town, though, Bill stopped abruptly. 

“Sh-shit,” he hissed. Just down the street was Belch Huggins’ car, which meant just down the street was Bowers and the rest of the Hunks. They were the exact sort of people no one wanted to run into after dark. Bill locked eyes with Mike, who nodded towards the alley beside them. 

Both boys hopped off their bikes and walked them into the alley, tucking them behind a few boxes, but there were very few places two tall teenagers could hide. They could hear the car getting closer the longer they stood there, staring at each other through the darkness. At the last minute, Bill pulled on Mike’s sleeve, tugging him behind a dumpster. They pressed together in the dark as the car drove by. For a terrifying few moments, it slowed nearly to a stop at the end of the alley. Bill pressed his face into Mike’s shoulder and held his breath, not even caring about the closeness. 

Bowers and his friends had been known to beat up any stray student wandering out at night, and Bill knew that at least some of them were aware of the true identities of the band stealing half their set at the Halloween dance. Their status as losers alone was enough to earn a good beating, but if they knew about the band… 

If he caught them, they were dead meat.

Finally, the car drove off, rumbling over the pot-holes in the road as if they weren’t even there. Mike and Bill stayed pressed together in the darkness for several long minutes, until they were absolutely sure that they weren’t coming back. Finally, Bill glanced up, suddenly extremely aware of just how close they were standing.

Sure, he’d been aware of it on some level - he’d had his face pressed against the taller boy’s shoulder the whole time. But now there was no threat to preoccupy his mind, and Bill was suddenly all too aware of the way Mike’s arms bracketed him, braced against the dumpster and the wall. Bill was close enough he could almost hear his heartbeat through the thin fabric of this t-shirt. He could feel Mike’s breath fanning across his forehead with every exhale.

“We sh-should go,” he managed, ducking his head to hide the way his cheeks burned red. “Th-The others will b-be wondering where w-we are.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mike said, stepping back and motioning for Bill to grab his bike first. “Lead the way.”

He wrapped his hands around Silver’s handlebars and walked the bike to the opening of the alley before getting on. Briefly, Bill wondered if Mike was embarrassed as he was. But the other boy seemed calm and collected, readjusting the way his duffel was swung over his shoulder with a practiced ease and nodding for Bill to go ahead. He envied his steadiness, the way he seemed completely unaffected. 

Bill was overreacting. He wasn’t surprised.

He led Mike to the park, weaving through side streets instead of taking the main road, where anyone who was out late might see them. It didn’t take long for them to reach the pool tucked away in the corner, one that was rarely used since the waterpark was built nearby a couple years before. Now the pool sat mostly abandoned.

“What are we doing here?” Mike asked, frowning as Bill dropped his bike to the ground in front of the fence. Bill grinned and hushed him, pointing to the gate. 

“B-Bev,” he said simply just as the gate swung open. The girl stood victoriously on the other side with Ben, holding a bobby pin in her hand and grinning cheekily. The lock that had been holding the gate closed lay at her feet.

“Welcome, boys, to my kingdom,” she joked, moving aside to usher them in. Mike and Bill picked up their bikes, pulling them inside and propping them up by the gate. “Eddie, Richie, and Stan are getting changed. Richie almost fell trying to push his bike over the fucking fence. What took you guys so long?”

Mike and Bill exchanged a glance, and Bill felt his cheeks heating up again. “We had to hide from Bowers,” Mike said. 

Ben winced. “Understood,” he said quietly. His eyes were locked on the darkness behind them. “No one saw you?”

Bill shook his head. “Not a soul.”

 

**_Stan_ **

“This is a stupid idea,” Stan muttered, carefully placing his neatly folded shirt in the bottom of his bag. He turned to look at Richie, who was nursing his scraped palms on the bench beside him, t-shirt thrown carelessly to the side. “We’re going to get caught, you know.”

Richie glanced up from under his bangs. “That’s the fun of it, Stan the Man,” he said with an easy grin. “Doesn’t a little excitement get ya going?”

“You should know by now that it really doesn’t,” Stan replied smoothly as Eddie emerged from a shower stall, still wearing his button down, but now with the swim trunks that Richie had apparently brought for him. His freckled cheeks were bright pink as the tallest boy let out an appreciative hoot, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy.

“I don’t like this,” Eddie complained, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s probably all sorts of germs in that pool. In here, even! Do you know how many diseases you can get from shower room floors?”

Richie rolled his eyes and got to his feet, throwing one arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “Relax, Eddie Spaghetti. No one’s been to this place in ages, I’m sure there’s nothing left to get ya,” he crowed. Eddie squeaked out a protest but it was lost as Richie kept talking nonsense, waving his free hand wildly as he dragged him over to Stan.

Stan, for his part, rolled his eyes at the pair of them, folding his socks together and placing them in the front pocket of his bag. “If you’re done acting like idiots, we can go out there,” he said coolly, sending a gentle smile their way so they knew he didn’t mean anything by it. “The sooner we get started in our nonsense, the sooner we can get caught and I can go back to bed.”

“Either that or it’s to the slamma for you, I says!” Richie cackled in an impression that Stan didn’t recognize and didn’t care to decipher. The tall boy released Eddie and darted out the door, leaving Stan and Eddie alone.

Stan cast a concerned eye over the small boy, who was still blushing intensely, his arms wrapped around his middle. At some point he’d picked up his towel and was now holding it close. He looked like he’d very much be anywhere else than there. 

“Hey, Richie’s just trying to make you more comfortable,” Stan said gently. Eddie started, staring up at him with wide brown eyes that definitely did not make Stan’s heart do a somersault in his chest. He looked away, focusing instead on the door that Richie had just run out of. “He does this thing where he tries to overcompensate to make you feel better. His jokes are stupid, but he doesn’t really mean anything by them. I can tell him to lay off if they’re bugging you, though.”

“N-No,” Eddie said quickly. “I don’t mind them really, it’s just… I’m scared?” He said the last part as a question, and Stan frowned. 

“We won’t get caught,” he said gently. “Derry really doesn’t care what goes on after dark. I was just saying that to bug Rich. And nothing in here is enough to get you sick, or else I would’ve gotten sick a long time ago - Richie and I come here all the time during the summer. There’s not much else to do when neither of us feels like being at home.”

Eddie bit his lip. “It’s not that,” he said slowly. “I just… don’t know how to swim. My mom’s never let me be around water too much. She says I’ll get really sick or I’ll drown or something so I just, uh, never learned. I didn’t say anything though, because I thought you guys might make fun of me.” His voice was small, so quiet Stan had to strain to hear it. His heart hurt for the small boy. Everyone knew how overprotective Sonia Kaspbrak was, but to see how insecure it had made Eddie was almost painful.

Stan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Well in that case, we can just sit on the edge, and I’ll make sure you don’t fall in,” he said. Eddie looked up, smiling brightly at him.

“You wouldn’t mind?” he asked quietly. Stan grinned. 

“Not at all. I’ve never really been much for swimming anyway,” he said. That was a bit of a lie - Stan had been the one who’d taught Richie to swim, and enjoyed their summer time pool visits far more than the other boy, but this seemed more important. “Come on. Bev said something about figuring out a band name tonight, and I think Ben brought some snacks.”

Eddie smiled back and the pair of them slipped out to the pool deck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos keep me sane  
> follow my tumblr @ eddiesnapback to yell at me about it stuff!! <3 <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BENVERLY FLUFF??? WILD
> 
> also this is one of my favorite scenes in the entire movie just because of how casual it all is, so this was weirdly fun to write. sorry for the wait though whoops.

**_BEN_ **

The day after meeting the band at the pool was kind of a blur for Ben. Derry High was buzzing with news of some sort of chaos that had gone down at the Neibolt House - an abandoned house that was rumored to be haunted and the favored gig-spot-slash-party-location for the Hot Hunks. Apparently the band had gotten caught driving around in Belch Huggins’ car in between sets by Sheriff Bowers, and he’d busted up the party. 

Ben was a little spacey in class himself, spending most of his time doodling in the margins of his notebooks rather than paying attention. The teachers wrote it off as just another hungover teenager amongst the hordes of them who’d been at the party the night before, but that wasn’t the case. He’d gotten home from the pool late and stayed up even later writing lyrics long into the night.

He had a new song he thought the others would like, one about the way Americana had changed since their parents were kids. 

And okay, maybe he’d written it with Bev in mind, but really, could he be blamed?

Said girl grabbed ahold of Ben’s arm during lunch, while he was on his way to the library. Bev had followed him the whole way there, chattering excitedly about how she’d talked to the AV club about the dance and about how her aunt wanted to meet the whole band soon, her arm thrown around his shoulder the entire way. 

“Bev, is there something you wanted?” he asked quietly just outside of the library entrance. Bev’s mouth snapped shut and she took a step away, her pale cheeks turning a bright red underneath her freckles. 

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I can go if you want. I’m sorry for assuming-”

Ben was quick to cut her off, smiling widely. “No, no it’s okay,” he said quickly. He scratched the back of his neck. “I just… People don’t really talk to me unless they want something, you know?” 

He thought there was something sad about her smile, and she took a step forwards again. “Then they’re missing out,” she said, placing a gentle hand on Ben’s upper arm. He felt his cheeks growing warm as she pulled away again. “Is it alright if I join you? I can sneak my Skittles so you don’t get in trouble for food in the library.”

Ben’s grin widened. “I’d like that,” he said, voice gentle. With that, he pulled open the door and gestured for Bev to enter. She did so with a dramatic curtsy and a giggle that sounded like music to Ben’s ears. 

Lunch with Bev was great. They hid amongst the shelves in the back - Bev shared her Skittles with him, and he gave her one of his Reese’s Cups. The pair of them found weird books and giggled over them quietly so that they wouldn’t get yelled at, and she let him rant about how overrated Romeo and Juliet with actual interest. At the end of lunch, she kissed him quickly on the cheek and hurried off to Art class. 

Ben was pretty sure Mike could hear his heart pounding all the way across the room in English, if the smirk he received was any indication.

Okay, maybe he was completely crushing. So sue him. Bev was perfect in every way. He just wished he stood a chance.

 

**_BEV_ **

The band met in the music room after sixth period on Bev’s orders. They had business to take care of that hadn’t been discussed the night before. (Mostly because a bunch of teenagers with free range of a pool at midnight meant no one was in the mood to pay attention to anything important.)

Bev was the last to arrive, which was pretty typical. Her sixth period was on the other side of the building. That, plus the fact the elevator down to the basement was incredibly slow but Bev was far too stubborn to use the stairs, meant it took her at least ten minutes to finally reach them. She hopped up on top of Mrs. Hartford’s desk, propping up her feet on Ben’s desk directly in front of her. The boy didn’t protest, simply carefully tying the loose ribbons she used in place of laces into a neat bow.

Her heart melted a little, but she looked away. Now wasn’t the time.

Bev cleared her throat, calling attention to her bandmates. “Alright everyone,” she said, clapping her hands. “First order of business: we need a band name. Dance committee needs to make flyers, and they’re waiting on us.” The announcement was punctuated by the flush of a toilet somewhere above them and a trickle of water pouring into the bucket by Mrs. Hartford’s desk. Eddie shuddered so hard Bev thought he would fall out of his seat.

“W-What about, T-The Lucky S-Seh-Seven?” Bill suggested, tilting his head. 

Richie laughed, kicking Bill’s desk and grinning widely. “You wanna name it that, Big Bill, but you can’t even say it!” he cackled. Bill rolled his eyes but shot the loudmouthed boy a smile. Bev rolled her eyes, but added her noise of disagreement along with the others.

“The Anarchists?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow. Richie snorted and Eddie made a choking sound, but Ben shrugged.

“Wait, that’s not so bad,” he said, shrugging. Her eyes fell on him and he turned red, smiling down at his desk.

Bev shot him a thankful look and looked towards an imaginary billboard just above her. “The Anarchists,” she said experimentally, wrinkling her nose just a moment later. She noticed Mike sending Ben a pained look and shaking his head so it was barely noticeable. 

“No, no you’re right it’s terrible,” Ben conceded. “Thought I could handle that one but no. Sorry Bev.” Ben laughed and tugged on the lock of her hair that curled just behind her ear. 

“It’s okay, Ben, it  _ is  _ pretty bad,” she admitted. He smiled and his eyes locked with hers again. She felt that magnetized pull that made it near impossible to look away, even as Mike crossed between him on his way to get another lemonade from the vending machine.

She finally pulled her eyes away when Richie began shuffling through Stan’s notebook purposefully, causing the shorter of the two to exclaim in protest. Eddie stood up on his chair in an attempt to grab Stan’s book back for him, but the hubbub didn’t last long before Richie tossed it back to the boy and ruffled Eddie’s hair.

“I got a name,” he announced grandly. He waited for a beat before putting up his hands as if he was displaying it. “Richie!” 

Eddie snorted and Stan dropped his face into his hands in defeat.

“Richie,” Bev repeated, the corner of her mouth quirking up in amusement. “What the hell, Tozier?” 

“Come on,” Richie said with a grin, taking a swig from his coke. “It’s the whole one name thing. Like Bon Jovi.”

“Or Cher?” Ben added, tilting his head. He looked for all the world like he was trying to be helpful, but he shot Bev a secretive mischievous smile as the others snickered. Richie didn’t seem to realize, nodding his head excitedly.

“Exactly!” he crowed. “See, Benny Boy gets it!”

The door burst open at that moment, and Mike rushed in, one hand wrapped around his lemonade and a crumpled piece of paper in the other. “Don’t do the dance!” he announced, looking slightly out of breath. There were a few mumbles of confusion. Richie said something about it being a “real shitty name” and Bill kicked the other boy’s chair and grinned at Mike supportively.

“No,” Mike said, unfurling the crumpled paper. Those words were scrawled across it in angry red marker, like someone had wanted to write it in blood but didn’t like the commitment. In smaller letters, someone with a neater handwriting had jotted ‘or else’ on the page, but the meaning was clear. “Someone left this on the door - I saw it on my way back in.”

Bev frowned, standing up and taking the paper out of Mike’s hands. She curled her hands into fists around it, eyes blurring with angry tears. What gave anyone the right to do shit like that? She whirled around, biting down so hard on her lower lip she was surprised it didn’t start bleeding.

“Meeting adjourned. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she snapped, turning to her bag. She angrily shoved the paper in and pushed her notebooks around until she thought everyone had left. No one said anything, though Ben did lay a comforting hand on her shoulder for a moment before taking his leave.

“So, the Hunks are pissed,” Richie said from behind her. Bev jumped, whipping around and wiping hot tears from her cheeks.

“Jesus H. Christ, Richie, you scared me,” she said. Richie rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair in the same fond gesture he often did to piss Eddie off. “Way to be observant.”

“You love me,” he grinned. “They’re mad we cut their show short.” He nodded towards her bag, where the threatening paper was now shoved so far beneath her textbooks and old assignments, it was unlikely that it would ever see the light of day again.

Bev huffed, crossing her arms. “So?” she snapped. “What gives them the right?”

“They’re the cool guys,” Richie said with a shrug and a sad smile. “The pride of Derry Fucking High. Primary providers of that fresh, hot Derry air.” He winked, and Bev had to hold back her chuckle. 

“What does that make us?” she asked. 

She swung her bag over her shoulder as Richie seemed to ponder the question. “We are… rashlike. Persistent,” he said decisively. Bev grinned broadly this time, letting him swing an arm over her shoulder and elbowing him in the side.

“Excellent,” she said. “We’ll show them.” Richie hummed in agreement and followed her out of the room. Bev set her jaw, determination coursing through her veins. Oh, they’d show them all right. Bowers and his gang had no idea what was about to hit them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHE RETURNS FROM THE GRAVE WITH SOME GODDANG HANBROUGH FLUFF also they finally get a name and i definitely didn't just rewatch the entire movie instead of doing homework. definitely not.
> 
> anyway i have class in thirty minutes and a chapter that has been held from yall for way way too long so enjoy!!

**_EDDIE_ **

It was lunch when it happened.

All Eddie had wanted was a stupid fucking water from the stupid fucking machine in the cafeteria. It cost two dollars, and he knew that it had been sitting in the machine for ages, probably getting horribly dirty and swimming with all sorts of bacteria, but he was desperately thirsty. It wasn’t  _ his _ fault his mom refused to let him drink anything from anywhere besides home - if she caught wind that he’d gotten water from the machine he’d be whisked away to the hospital before he could say “flu virus.” 

He really should have just waited.

Just before he could lift the bottle to his lips, Vic Criss swooped in and snatched it away from him. “Oh thanks, I needed this,” he sneered, twisting off the cap and taking a huge gulp. Eddie couldn’t prevent himself from shuddering hard and backing away until his back hit the drinks machine solidly. Suddenly, he was cornered against the machine by all four members of Bowers’ gang. Eddie reminded himself that they wouldn’t do anything here, not in the middle of a crowded cafeteria and a hundred witnesses. But the evil grin on Bowers’ face didn’t reassure him.

“You’re the lead singer for that new band, right?” he asked in a honey sweet voice that didn’t match the look on his face. Eddie could almost imagine his canines sharpening to something deadly, something that could tear him into pieces with a single bite. He felt himself cowering under the gaze.

Bowers raised his eyebrow expectantly, and Eddie knew he had to answer him. “Um, one of them, yeah,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. God, he had never thought about what would happen if they actually found out. He was dead, he was going to die right here in the middle of this stinky, dirty cafeteria, and-

“What’s going on?” Stan’s voice cut through the fear and Eddie peeked up at him. Stan was approaching with Mike, Bill and Ben, who all had hard looks on their faces. 

Bowers, Hockstetter, ad Belch turned towards them with sickly sweet smiles on their faces that made Eddie’s stomach churn, but none of them seemed to be turning away. He was surprised. Surely, none of them would get involved when they could get away without getting hurt? He had no idea what the hell they were doing.

“We’re just talking,” Bowers said. “In fact, I was just asking Kaspbrak here to belt one out for us, seeing as he’s apparently such a good singer.”

Eddie curled further in on himself as Hockstetter turned his gaze towards him, a fire in his eyes that spoke of unspeakable horrors if he didn’t comply. A small plea slipped past Eddie’s lips, broken and terrified, but the bullies’ grins just grew bigger and more threatening at the sound.

“Come on, just leave him alone,” Mike said. He sounded annoyed, God, he was risking any social standing he had as a football player on  _ Eddie _ . Fuck, he was going to hate him after this. 

“Why?” Bowers asked, taking a step towards Mike. “You gonna make me?” 

Mike flinched backwards, stepping behind Stan again as if the shorter, skinnier boy could protect him. Stan crossed his arms and stared the other boys down as they advanced, raising his eyebrows. 

Bill cleared his throat. “Y-You’re being a c-cr-creep, Bowers. J-Just let it go,” he said, his voice only wavering a little. Bowers turned his wicked glare towards him, and with a nod of his head, Belch was approaching him from the other side. The smaller boy’s hands were clearly shaking, but he didn’t seem to be backing down.

Eddie didn’t understand why none of them were backing down. He wasn’t worth getting even bigger targets painted on their backs.

The bully got closer to Eddie’s bandmates, Hockstetter and Belch narrowing in on them from the sides. Eddie would have taken the chance to run, if there wasn’t the very real possibility that Criss would reach out and stop him before he even had a chance. He didn’t want those hands on him, digging bruises into his arms like he had the last time Eddie had tried to run away from a beating. Who knew where they’d been?

“Well if you’re not gonna make me stop,” Bowers started, gesturing towards Stan, Bill, and Mike, who were all glaring at him but made no move otherwise, “who’s gonna make me?”

“Me,” Ben said from behind Bowers, startling both him and Eddie. Bowers’ grin had turned positively lethal as he eyed Ben. Eddie suddenly remembered the time he’d found the other boy bleeding out in an alley with an ‘H’ carved into his stomach, the first time they’d ever interacted. He could practically see the incident replaying itself in Ben’s eyes as he stared the bully down. What the hell was he doing?

Bowers snorted, edging closer to Ben. “You, huh?” he said, stepping until they were nearly nose to nose. Ben nodded with a lot more courage than he seemed to actually have, at least from where Eddie was standing. He could see the shaking in the other boy’s hands that he was trying desperately to hide. 

Without warning, Bowers grabbed Ben by the upper arms, squeezing just below his shoulders tight enough that Eddie was already sure there would be bruising later. 

Mike let out a loud breath and held up his hands in a gesture that looked like it was supposed to be placating. “Can’t we talk this through?” he asked, pleading. His eyes flickered towards Eddie and he edged closer, as if he was trying to grab the small boy himself. Bower’s let out a harsh laugh and Criss grabbed Eddie by the back of his jacket, his grimy fingers curling in the soft denim hard enough that he could feel the pinch of them on his skin underneath his t-shirt.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut again. This is how they were going to die, and no one in the cafeteria was doing  _ anything _ .

All he’d wanted was some water.

Just as suddenly, Criss’ hand was gone, replaced by a comforting hand on his shoulder gently pushing him towards Stan and Mike. He looked up to find Richie holding Vic’s arms back in a painful looking position with one hand, the other stuffed in his mouth to keep him from making noise. Bev was the one pushing him forward, her dark eyes full of a fire that Eddie was very glad was not directed at him.

She stormed forward, tapping Bowers on the shoulder just as Ben seemed to be bracing for a punch to the face. “I have a better idea,” she announced, taking a long swig of the lemonade she was carrying.

Bowers turned towards her and, in a move that Eddie could barely believe was actually happening, she spit lemonade all over him.

Richie started cackling, and everyone started moving at once. Eddie found himself shoved to the side with Stan as Bev punched Criss square in the face. Mike’s was fighting with Belch in a way that had him, frankly impressed. Ben had been hit around the head by Bowers, finally, but he’d retaliated and ducked away, and was now helping Bill take on both Hockstetter and Bowers. 

Just as quickly as it started, it was stopped. Mr. Gray rode up on his ridiculous little segway screaming about stepping away from the puddle and writing out detention slips and calling parents. Eddie didn’t take in a word of it, except for two.

“And then the little Loser’s Club here,” Hockstetter was saying, spitting the words towards Bill’s feet. Eddie whipped around to stare at Stan and Bev, who had twin secretive smiles crossing their faces.

They had their name.

They also had more detentions for the next two weeks, but that wasn’t anywhere near as important. 

**_MIKE_ **

Mike froze in front of the door to the library. “What the Hell?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. He whipped out his phone to take a picture of the library doors and send it to the rest of the band.

Within minutes, Bev and Bill were standing beside him.

“Th-They can’t do that, right?” Bill asked, frowning at the sign slapped across the window. “That h-has to be i-illegal or s-s-something.”

Bev huffed, and began to peel at the sign with her nails. “We’ll find out,” she said. With a little effort, she peeled the metal sign away from the window. Bev’s nails were a little worse for the wear from the effort, but she didn’t seem perturbed by it. 

She whipped around and hurried towards the office, leaving Mike and Bill to gather themselves in her wake. Bill went a little slower, sliding his fingers between Mike’s and squeezing gently. 

“W-We’ll figure out a way to stop this,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. Mike could feel his own face heating up. “Don’t worry, Mike.”

“Thanks, Bill,” he said. He squeezed Bill’s hand in return.

Neither boy let go all the way to the office.

Bev was already there, leaning over the receptionist’s desk and kicking up a fuss about the sign. “You can’t close the library!” Bev snapped, tapping pointedly at the sign. “People need access to the books and computers.”

The receptionist screwed up her face in confusion. “Students still use the library?” she asked. Mike frowned and stepped forward, brushing aside a furious Bev.

“We were just wondering if it was going to be renovated or something,” he said, flashing his nicest ‘All-Parents-Love-Me’ smile. “Any information you have would be great.” He could feel Bill’s hand on his back, a comforting presence that made him relax a little more. 

The receptionist seemed to melt a little at his words and turned to her computer. “I’m sure it’s just a little mix up,” she said, her fingers flying over the keys of her computer. She paused. “No, no, that library should have really been gone this summer. It’s really not generating enough income to keep it open, and anyway, we haven’t heard from that sponsor in years. Vice Principal Gray plans to turn it into another gym!” 

She turned back to them with a bright smile, not realizing that she had just confirmed their worst fears. Bev’s hands were curling into fists. A lethal glare appeared on her face as her cheeks reddened.

“Thank you ma’am,” Mike said quickly, already turning to grab Bev’s arm. Bill placed his hands on her shoulders and helped to steer her towards the door. “You’ve been incredibly helpful,” he called over his shoulder just as the door swung shut.

“B-Beverly,” Bill said slowly once they were far enough away. “Wh-Whatever you’re thinking about, don’t d-d-do i-it.”

Bev smiled sweetly, though there was murder in her blue eyes. “Boys,” she said. “I’ve got a plan.”

Bill and Mike locked eyes and let out twin groans of despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make me happy  
> come yell at me about IT on my tumblr @ eddiesnapback i promise i don't bite i just want my kids to be happy  
> Check out the playlist for this fic on spotify (link in the first chapter's notes!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi it's 3:30am and this is aggressively unbetaed please just accept it, i've been sick for a week and this is what i did instead of my midterm.

**_RICHIE_ **

Richie didn’t expect to come home from school the day after the fight to find his mom in an upright position. It had been a long time since he’d seen her anything other than passed out or drunk off her ass, but she not only was she off of the couch, she was  _ cooking _ . 

She never cooked anymore. 

Richie entered the kitchen with trepidation, and nearly tripped over a box of books next to the door.

“Mom?” he asked. He hardly dared to hope that she would answer with any amount of sobriety, so he was shocked when she turned around and fixed him with a bright smile.

“Richie!” she exclaimed, putting down the knife she’d been using to chop potatoes. He approached her open arms slowly, eying her hands. There was no sign of blood to signify any slipped knife movements. She was steady on her feet as she wrapped him in a tight hug; not a hint of alcohol was on her breath as she kissed his cheek. “Sweetheart, you’re home earlier than I expected. Did you not have detention?”

Richie balked. He didn’t think she’d even registered a word of the phone call that Gray had made to her, informing her of his latest escapade. “No, uh, I did, just Mrs. Hartford had an emergency and let us leave early.”

Not even entirely a lie - their teacher had let them play the instruments for an hour, then sent them packing so she could go home to her dogs and husband. There was no  _ emergency _ , per se, but his mom didn’t need to know that. 

His mother had turned back to the counter, and was now chattering to him over her shoulder as if he wasn’t more confused than he had ever been. She was in the middle of a story about the ladies at the grocery store - which was stunning in itself because when was the last time she’d actually gone  _ grocery shopping _ ? - when he cut her off.

“Mom, what’s going on?” he asked. She froze in her cutting of the final potato, carefully putting the knife down on the counter again and wiping her hands on her skirt.

“Your father is home,” she said gently, nodding towards the box on the floor. Richie whipped around to stare at him. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed his father’s name scrawled across the top or the massive tome on dentistry peeking between the flaps. “He came back, Rich.”

A million feelings boiled up inside Richie all at once. Joy, excitement, confusion, all flooded through him at the same moment. But it was the anger that suppressed everything else, making him grit his teeth together and move towards the hallway.

“What do you mean, ‘came back,’” he said slowly. The photos on the hallway walls that had been removed when Wentworth left were back on their hooks, ones with their happy, smiling faces staring back as a complete family. He flinched at the sight of them. “We were fine without him!”

That was a lie - they were broken without his father. His mother had tried so hard but she had spirialled. Richie had lived a life that required him to grow up far too fast in the four years since his father had walked out on them. But he was furious with the man for leaving them with nothing, for trying to barge back in like he hadn’t broken them in the first place.

He’d wanted his father to come home for so long. Now he swore he would punch him the moment he ran into him.

“Richie, baby, please,” his mother tried. “This is good! He’s here, he’s staying, he loves us, he-”

“If he loved us, he wouldn’t have fucking walked out, Mom,” he said. Richie was embarrassed to hear words come out in between sobs. “I can’t do this.” 

Whipping around on his heel, Richie ran back down the hall and out the front door. His feet pounded against the pavement - he didn’t even bother to stop for his bike. He didn’t know where he was going, but he just needed to get away, to clear his head, to  _ breathe _ . How he ended up in front of Stan’s house was a mystery to him, likely based on pure muscle memory after hundreds of nights showing up at his best friend’s door.

Stan was in the driveway when Richie appeared, sitting beside Eddie on a towel with his legs crossed and studiously painting the other boy’s toenails a pale yellow. The moment he saw Richie’s broken face, however, he gently pushed Eddie’s feet aside, carefully twisting the cap back onto the bottle before hurrying to his side.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Richie?” he asked. The words were hardly out of his mouth before Richie crumpled against him, sobbing into his hands to keep from covering Stan’s shirt with snot and tears. The taller boy’s arms wrapped around him, carefully rubbing circles into his bicep with his thumb.

“He’s back, Stan,” Richie gasped between sobs. “My dad. He’s back.” He felt a small hand join Stan’s on his shoulder, and Eddie buried his face against Richie’s back. There was a swelling feeling of love that filled Richie’s heart as he cried against them until the tears ran out.

 

**_BILL_ **

The day before the bash had Bill stressed out. Between Stan, Richie, and Eddie, he was starting to worry they wouldn’t be ready.

Richie hadn’t been at school for a week. He kept showing up to practice late, and left as soon as possible with Stan in tow, and the way his fingers flew over the strings of his guitar with a fury that Bill had never seen before was borderline concerning even without that. Bill tried to corner them and ask what was going on, but every time he tried they ran away.

And Eddie seemed to grow more and more terrified with each passing day. He could barely stand to be reminded of the dance’s pressing arrival - his face turned green every time Bev mentioned it. 

That being said, as the eve of the Halloween dance approached, Bill couldn’t help but be proud of how well things were going. 

Their set was airtight, and went off without a hitch every time by final practice. Soundcheck before the dance started also went beautifully, despite the evil glares that Bowers and his gang gave them from the sidelines. 

It was after the doors to the dance opened that things went haywire.

Bill was sitting with Mike in the corner backstage, flipping a drumstick idly between his fingers when Bev ran up. 

“Has anyone seen Eddie?” she asked frantically, her fingers tangled in between each other. Ben, Stan, and Richie were close behind her, looking equally frantic. Bill could feel his own panic rising in his throat as he realized that it had been at least an hour since he’d last seen their friend.

“N-No. Mike?” he asked, turning to the boy in question. Mike shook his head, biting his lower lip thoughtfully.

“Have you asked around about him?” Mike questioned. Richie was quick to whirl around, grabbing one of the AV kids, an upperclassmen in a Ghostbusters costume, by the arm as he hurried past. 

The kid paused just long enough to give them an annoyed look, tugging on a lock of curly brown hair. “Kaspbrak? I saw him heading to the bathroom a while ago - looked like he was ‘bout to hurl. I’d hurry up, though, people are starting to get antsy,” he said. Finally he was able to detach Richie’s hand from the sleeve of his coveralls and join the three other seniors dressed as the Ghostbusters by the sound table. 

The rest of the band shared a look and took off towards the bathroom. Bill and Bev were the first to get through the door, shoving past a group of cereal mascots gathered near the door as they barged their way in. One of them made some comment about Bev being a girl in the men’s room, but was quickly shut up by the stony look on her face.

“Eddie?” Bill called, bending over to look under the stalls. The second to last was locked tight, and a familiar pair of pastel sneakers were able to be seen beneath the door. “Eddie, i-i-it’s us. A-Are you okay?”

There was a panicked wheezing from the other side of the door that made Bill nervous, but otherwise no response. Bill wasn’t good with panic, and Eddie’s was palpable even through the barrier. He looked helplessly towards his bandmates, prompting Stan to shove him aside and deposit himself in front of the door.

“How are you, Eddie?” Stan asked in a gentle tone that was unlike any Bill had ever heard from him.

“Oh, I’m… great… super.” Eddie’s voice was strained around his gasps. Richie made a joyous sound, but Bill quickly shushed him. “It’s just… probably not the best idea for me to… to go out there… on stage… y’know, physically.”

Bill’s heart sank to his stomach. After all they’d worked for, this was it. Richie shoved past him, leaning against the door. “Eds, come on,” he said gently. “We’ve rehearsed these songs a million times. You’ve got this - we’ve got this.”

There was a soft sniffling from the other side of the door, followed by the familiar sound of Eddie deploying his inhaler. “I’m scared,” he whispered, so quiet Bill had to strain to hear it. 

“W-We’re all s-s-sc-scared, Eddie,” Bill said. He caught Bev’s eye, who pointed desperately towards her watch - they were running out of time. Mike frowned at her, plopping down on the floor next to the stall. He leaned back and stared at Bev, his eyes narrowed for a moment before he sat upright. 

“Hey, what’s that?” Mike asked suddenly, pointing to a cluster of pins on Bev’s jacket. 

Ben’s cheeks turned red, and Bev shrugged as everyone leaned closer to see. There were seven pins with the same logo on them attached to her jacket. White, with Loser scrawled across them in black, and a red ‘v’ over the ‘s’ that turned the word into Lover. Bev carefully removed one of them from her jacket, handing it over to be passed around. 

“It’s something Ben and I came up with for the show,” she explained. Ben looked embarrassed to even be mentioned, but he nodded nonetheless. 

Bill passed the small pin over to Mike, his fingers brushing the other boys in the process. His face heated up as Mike caught his fingers and pulled him beside him to the ground as he inspected the pin. “I have one for each of us and a bunch to pass out during the set.”

When the pin reached Richie, he stared at it for a long moment. His eyes met Stan’s, who nodded almost imperceptibly back at him. Richie edged closer to the door, kneeling down at the gap beneath it. “Eddie, here,” he whispered, holding the pin out. Eddie’s small, pale fingers could be seen wrapping around it, followed by the sound of a soft thump as he leaned against the wall of the stall. “We believe in you, okay?”

“I believe in you,” Stan added, so quietly Bill was sure that they weren’t meant to hear. 

There was a long pause before the door opened, and Eddie’s face peered out. He was pale and a bit blotchy, his eyes shining with either anger and anxiety - Bill wasn’t sure which - but he had the pin attached to his overalls and his hands balled into determined fists at his sides. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice only wobbling a little. 

“YES!” Richie cheered, dragging him and Stan into a hug. The entire group soon latched on, Mike dragging Bill into it with a wide smile. It felt safe and warm, and Bill relaxed into it for a moment before Ben pulled himself free.

“You guys are on in like, two minutes,” he said. “We should go.” 

Everyone quickly detangled themselves and started hurrying out of the bathroom and towards the stage, making it there with a minute to spare. 

Bill noticed that Mike didn’t let go of his hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos keep me sane  
> follow my tumblr @ eddiesnapback to yell at me about it stuff!! <3 <3  
> [Here's the playlist for this fic! ](https://open.spotify.com/user/eclecticprincess/playlist/3GZP3xxlUIdEBnjUZb22JD?si=Tn46gHG3RCKzZw6nR-pbRg) It has all the songs I listen to while writing the fic/that the band sings whether it's mentioned or not. If you think of anything else that you think fits the losers let me know - I'll give it a listen and it might end up on the playlist, who knows?


End file.
